Customer: “Hi, my pizza was just delivered and it was entirely incorrect. I just gave it back to the driver and he gave my money back. But I’d like to get my correct pizza.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Well it looks here like you ordered the Greek pizza—”

Customer: “Yeah, but the one I got had tomatoes and black olives, and green peppers, I think…”

Me: “And red sauce and onions and feta cheese?”

Customer: “Yeah!”

Me: “Yeah, that’s the Greek pizza. You got exactly what you ordered.”

Customer: “What? Well my friend just ordered from you last week and he said he got the Greek, but it was different. It had gyro meat on it and it got served with tzatziki sauce.”

Me: “Oh, your friend must have ordered our Santorini pizza. I can go ahead and change your order here and send you the right one. It costs the same price.”

Customer: “Uh… that’s it? I don’t get a discount or anything?”

Me: “Well… no. I mean… it’s your friend’s fault that he told you the wrong pizza. But you got exactly what you told us you wanted. We don’t give discounts for people who neglect to read our menu before ordering.”

(I am delivery driving pizza. My store has a 30-minute-or-less guarantee. I get a delivery order for E. 72nd St and head right over there with their order of a drink and a pizza. When I get to the address, I can’t find their house number. I call back to the store and verify the address. It comes back the same. I look some more… no luck. I call back again and they call back the person who placed the order who also verifies the same address. Still can’t find it! On a hunch I drive over to E. 72nd Road and find the guy. Note: this is NOT a nice neighborhood.)

Customer: “You’re late! I want my order for free!”

Me: “I can’t because you gave us the wrong address.”

Customer: “Nope. I get it for free!”

(He tries and tries to get me to give him the order for free, wasting my time.)

Me: “Are you going to pay for this or not?”

(He still insists on trying to talk me into giving it to him, so I flip open the pizza box, grab a slice, and start eating it right in front of him! I turn, get in my car, and head to the store. When I get there I tell my manager what I did, expecting to get chewed out.)

Manager:*with a wink* “You’re going to have to pay for that order… Give me a dollar and don’t do that again.”

(I’m in the kitchen making pizzas when my boss comes back and tells me that an order she just sent back requested that we use a clean knife and cutting board to cut her pizza with because she is vegan and doesn’t want her pizza to come into contact with something against her diet. This is not an unusual request so I give her a thumbs up. A few minutes later I get to the ticket.)

Me: “Hey, [Boss]? It was ticket number 62 that was the vegan ticket, right?”